As I finish the last touches on a quilt my mother started (and can no longer finish), I wonder many things: Why did she choose these colors? What kept her from finishing this project? What did she think about when she sewed? What is she thinking about now? Does she have time for thoughts between the pain and the sleep?
I have spend a long time considering motherhood. In fact, it has taken me ten years to realize that in order to be the mother I so desperately want to be, I just need to be myself and follow my own intuition. To just be is hard enough and to know myself and to trust my own intuition is a long journey.
But recently on this journey to the self, I have learned a new word. Daughterhood.
What exactly is daughterhood? And have I been a good enough daughter? Have I shown the grace to my mother that I only now know I wish from my own children on this parenting journey? Will I still be a daughter even after my mother dies?
I don't really know why I picked up this particular unfinished project of my mother's. I am really not a quilter. Is it her love of blue that pulled me in? The neatly cut squares? Her dream of quilting? Her love of fabric, the shape, the texture, the idea of what one can create with a few pieces of fabric?
Ah, creation, yes, that's it. Creativity is powerfully healing. I spent my weekend time cutting, sewing, piecing together something that my mother's hands and mind shaped. I was picking up the threads of a dream, an image, a thought, a hope. Weaving together our hands, our thoughts, our dreams into this sea of blue.